Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

L ouise left the study a minute or so later, her body heavy and sluggish as she processed what Christian had said.

He seemed so hurt.

She called for the carriage while trying to shake off the feeling. As she approached the entryway, she found Lady Northbridge already waiting for her.

“Is the Duke quite well?” her mother asked. “He seemed furious when he left.”

Louise waved a hand dismissively. “He has gone to his club to attend to some business.”

The two women embraced, and Louise plastered on a brave smile. “You will come to visit again?” she asked.

“Of course, I will,” her mother assured her. “Perhaps I will be able to come without your father. I do not believe he lightens the atmosphere.”

“You may be right.”

“Good luck with your encyclopedia,” her mother said fondly. “Be sure to send me any drawings you cannot use. I save them all.”

As her mother departed, Louise was reminded again of all the species she had yet to catalog and all the work she would need to do to finish the book within the year.

Resolved to return to the gardens and start at once, she turned to head out, only to find the Dowager Duchess standing in her path, watching her carefully.

She curtsied. “Good day,” she greeted, a little taken aback. “My apologies, I did not see you.”

The Dowager Duchess said nothing, but then she raised her hand, indicating a small parlor behind her, the door to which had been left ajar.

“Would you come and sit with me for a moment? There are some things I want to discuss with you.”

Louise respectfully followed her into the parlor. It was a beautiful space with pale green walls and gold etchings on the wallpaper. The furniture was a dark red, contrasting with the pale carpet, and a merry fire heated the room to just the right temperature.

The Dowager Duchess took a seat on the small settee on the side, and Louise lowered herself onto the chaise longue opposite. It was an extremely uncomfortable thing that needed reupholstering and fresh springs. She shifted in her seat, wondering whether the Dowager Duchess had led her there deliberately.

“My son has left again, I see,” the Dowager Duchess muttered, glancing at the door as though Christian might be eavesdropping.

“He has. I know his club is important to him.”

“Indeed, but he must be reminded of what else is important too. You are his wife. You should take precedence over his business.”

Is this a test?

Louise shrugged a shoulder, saying nothing and waiting for the other woman to continue.

“How much do you know about our family history, Duchess?”

“Please call me Louise,” Louise insisted, hating the title when her mother-in-law said it almost as much as when Christian did.

“You must call me Sabine, then,” the Dowager Duchess said, giving her a long look that was not quite a smile.

“To answer your question, Sabine, I know very little about your family history. Only what Marcus told me. He spoke a little about his struggles to be recognized in the ton and the prejudices you have faced.”

Sabine nodded her head. “You should know then that Christian and Marcus were both born out of wedlock. I was a maid in the late Duke’s household. His first wife was unable to bear him children. Something blossomed between us that we couldn’t ignore. Whatever Christian believes, we loved each other dearly.”

“I can believe it, I assure you.”

Sabine sighed. “Christian never forgave his father for what he considered an insult to all of us. He has never forgiven me for the ‘struggles,’ as you put it, that he and Marcus have faced. The ton does not take kindly to bastards, Louise, no matter how quickly my late husband claimed them.”

And Christian would have always been seen as a maid’s son, not truly worthy of the title of Duke at all.

“I do not regret it,” the Dowager Duchess continued, her defiance strong in her voice. “I would do it again if I was given the choice, no matter the stain it would cast on my marriage. My only regret is that Christian seems to despise love. To him, love ripped his family apart and will always be something violent that taints the world around him.”

Louise shifted her weight on the chaise, eager to stand up and walk about the room. She had not expected Sabine to be so open with her. Christian had alluded to his past, as had Marcus, but both men had avoided elaborating on it, and she could understand why.

Is that what our marriage is going to be like? A business arrangement for all time—loveless and devoid of any real feelings?

She knew that Christian had not had any desire to woo her or to truly take her as his wife. She was a way for him to learn what happened to Marcus, and she believed that he would stop at nothing to get the answers he needed.

I never wished to marry him either. This is hardly a surprise, so why does it make me feel so wretched?

Louise would have been content to remain a spinster for the rest of her days, studying flowers, working on her book, and never entertaining any thoughts of marriage. But now that she did have a husband, she hated the idea that she would be condemned to a life like that of her parents.

She glanced at the Dowager Duchess’s stoic expression.

“I do not wish to upset you with this knowledge, you understand,” Sabine continued, her hands twisting in her lap as she met Louise’s gaze. “I wish you to find happiness in your own way. But I have lived a life of secrets under a shroud of lies and deceit. That is no way to begin a partnership, and you deserve to know the truth.”

“Thank you, Sabine. I appreciate you telling me, and I am sorry that you have suffered the prejudices of my class all your life.”

Sabine’s smile was gentle. “I have made my choices, and as I said, I would not change them, not even after losing my husband and knowing all that I know now.”

It was past eleven, and Louise had been sitting in her room, waiting for Christian to arrive home for almost two hours. The fire was dying down to its embers, but she was not even dressed for bed.

“I am not going to take a lover when I have a wife to take my pleasure from…”

Christian’s words had been floating around in her head for most of the night. When he had told her that he would be faithful to her, it had hardly mattered. She had been angry with him and unconcerned about how he spent his time.

Now, having seen the desire in his eyes and felt the strength of his arms around her as his tongue stroked hers, she could not put the thought out of her mind.

Many men have mistresses at their clubs. It is well-known and spoken of quite openly in some circles. What if Christian is with another woman right now?

The thought was maddening. She did not want to care what he was doing behind closed doors—she should not have cared.

And yet I do.

She rose from her chair and paced in front of the fire as she put a hand on her stomach, feeling the pulse of nerves grow ever stronger the more minutes ticked by.

She glanced at the clock for what must have been the hundredth time, her irritation spiking all the more when she recalled what his mother said to her earlier. If he did not believe in love, what was to prevent him from spending every waking moment at his club at the expense of all else?

Her hands clenched into fists as she made her decision.

I will not wait for my dear husband to grace me with his presence. If he thinks I shall sit at home and be the dutiful wife, he is sorely mistaken.

Ten minutes later, she was climbing into the carriage beneath the watchful eye of a weary-looking footman.

“Orions, please,” she ordered sharply as the rain lashed against the side of the carriage, and she pulled her skirts through the door as it clicked shut behind her.

The sky was black as pitch, and the sound of the rain pelting the roof above her head was almost deafening, but she would not be dissuaded from her course.

Her resolve did falter a little, however, as they made their way slowly through the streets. Shadowy figures passed by the carriage in the darkness, unidentifiable shapes moving through the gloom, some of them too close for comfort.

As she stared out, she saw a hulking man standing in a shop’s doorway and looking up in the rain as he pulled off his jacket and shirt, hollering into the night, the whites of his eyes visible.

Nervous and frightened of anyone who might take an interest in the carriage, she lowered the blind, the small candle above her head the only source of light as she waited for them to reach their destination.

It seemed to take an age before she heard some shouting above her and the carriage door was wrenched open. The footman stood in the deluge, soaked to the skin as she swiftly climbed out.

“Go somewhere warm and eat something while you wait for us,” she instructed, and the driver and footman trundled away.

As Louise turned to the club, she found herself unprepared for the sight of the door before her. Not so many days ago, she had arrived here for the first time at her father’s whim, utterly unaware of the course her life would take from that moment.

She leveled the door with a hard stare.

I am no longer Louise Dawson. I am the Duchess of Egerton, and I am here to see my husband.

As she approached, the door was opened by a large, burly man sporting a livid scar down one side of his face.

As soon as she stepped inside, the warm scent of leather invaded her nostrils. The lights were low, a comforting glow making everything seem soft and inviting, but her courage faltered when she found that it was just her and the giant standing in the foyer.

“I have come to see the Duke of Egerton,” she announced as loudly as she could.

The hulking creature walked behind the desk and, to her surprise, gave her a grin. He was missing at least two teeth.

“Good evening, Your Grace.”

Louise was twice amazed. The man spoke with an upper-class accent that rivaled her own.

“His Grace is in his office at present, meeting with an associate. I will have someone show you into the main room, and I will inform him that you are here.”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling raindrops trickling down her back. “Mr.…?”

“Jarvis, Your Grace. It’s this way,” he murmured and pointed to her left, where another door was half open. She could see cigar smoke in the air and hear the crackle of a fire.

“An associate, you say?” she asked, unable to entirely mask the suspicion in her voice.

“Indeed, Your Grace. I will make sure that he knows you are here, waiting for him.”

Louise scoffed. “Please do. I imagine he will be thrilled to hear it . ”